


Running like (Wild Horses)

by captainjaybird



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainjaybird/pseuds/captainjaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, everything goes to hell and Sarah Manning runs away. What happened in those ten months she was gone? (STRONG content warnings for canon domestic abuse. Not sure if it qualifies as 'graphic' but I wanted to be safe.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running like (Wild Horses)

** Flight **

 “Sarah, we have to go! Now!”

Vic’s pulling on her hand, running out of the room as the banging on the door intensifies. Lights are shining through the windows, and Sarah feels like everything is moving fast, far too fast. She’s stumbling over her feet as she follows Vic, out the window and down the fire escape. Behind her, she hears the door come crashing down and the distinct popping of shots being fired. Suddenly, the air she’s breathing feels too harsh for her lungs.

“Oh, oh my god, oh shit, Vic, what the fu—”

“Shut up Sarah!” he roars. “Come on, get in the fucking car, we have to get out of this fucking town!”

“Leave?” Sarah stops, hand on the open door. “But, Kira—”

“We don’t have time to get your kid,” Vic snarls, hand on the ignition, tense like a cornered animal. “You’d just get her killed, anyway.”

Mechanically, Sarah gets in the car, closes the door. Vic floors the pedal and the car screeches out of the alley. She can’t speak, because _Vic is right._ She rests her head on the cool window and wills the tears not to come. _I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry._

 

They drive for a long time, and when they finally stop it’s at a shitty little motel where the attendant doesn’t even bother to look at their faces when they pay. One of the lights in their room is broken and the shadows almost seem like they’re reaching for Sarah. She pulls her shoulders back and sits on the bed, avoiding the stain on the comforter.

“So,” Sarah asks, surprised at the raspiness in her voice. “What the bloody hell happened?”

“You remember that smack I got for real cheap from Ronnie? Well, that shit was real bad Sarah, and I sold it to Toby. He shot up and overdosed last night.”

“Toby?” Sarah whispers, horrified. “But that’s Mike’s son.”

“Yeah, big Mike, biggest fucking gang banger around. And we killed his kid. We can’t go back.”

“Can’t go back,” Sarah repeats. “Kira—”

“Shut up about Kira!” Vic yells. He grabs Sarah’s face. “You’re damn lucky you dropped her off at that S bitch’s house last night so we could do a pickup. She wouldn’t last for a day on the run. And I’m not gonna hear you whining about it for months. We clear?”

Sarah averts her eyes. “Yeah. We’re clear.”

“Good.” Vic lets go of her and flops on the bed. “Now, let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a lot of running left to do.” He leans over to kiss her to sleep, and Sarah lets him. She lays with her head on the pillow, awake and glassy-eyed long after Vic is asleep.

 

 **March**          

After a few days on the road, not speaking, barely stopping except for gas and a few stolen hours of sleep, Vic pulls into the parking lot of a skeevy looking bar and stops the car. Surprised, Sarah turns to him.

“Here? We’re stopping here?”

“We’ve gone far enough out,” Vic explains. “And I could use a drink.”

“First good bloody idea you’ve had in this whole thing,” Sarah says, and doesn’t miss the way Vic’s eyes flash. “Screw it, let’s go.”

The bar is as grimy on the inside as it was on the outside, and Sarah gingerly takes a seat at the counter. The bartender, a woman with bleached blonde hair well past her prime, comes up to her. “What’ll it be?” she asks disinterestedly.

“The strongest drink you’ve got. Two of them.”

“One for the boyfriend?”

“No.”

The bartender raises her eyebrows, but goes to prepare Sarah’s drinks. Vic is already knocking back a beer, eyeing a game of darts. _Good,_ Sarah thinks. _Someone else’s problem for once._ Grabbing her drink, she takes a generous swig, closing her eyes as the alcohol burns down her throat. It’s stronger than she expected.

By the time the first drink’s gone, Sarah’s head is feeling pleasantly fuzzy. After the second, all the lights in the room seem so much brighter and the ache in her chest is gone. This is what it’s like to be alive again. Vic slides in next to her.

“Hey, Sarah. You’re looking better.”

“I feeeeeeel so much better,” Sarah slurs. “We're on, on an adventure, you and me. Just gonna run away from it all. Yeah. Yeah.”

Vic smiles. “That’s right. Just you and me.” Leaning in, he kisses her, and Sarah closes her eyes to stop the spinning.

When she wakes up the next morning, naked and with a killer headache, the first thing Sarah does is sprint to the toilet. As she’s throwing up, she doesn’t know if it’s from the alcohol or the guilt.

 

** April **

They settle into a kind of rhythm, Sarah and Vic. Come to a town, stay a couple weeks, scam some idiot out of their money and run. It’s almost pathetically easy, and Sarah does most of the work. With her charm and lighter skin, people are more inclined to trust her than Vic. She takes the opportunity to practice her American accent, not wanting to be memorable as “that British girl.” Vic says it’s just one more job until they’ll have enough to get some false papers and cross the border into the States.

“Hey,” Sarah approaches a guy at that bar. He’s balding with glasses, and has the look of an accountant. She’s been watching him, and he’s a few whiskeys in. An easy mark. “Care to keep a lonely girl company?”

The accountant, as Sarah decides to call him, looks surprised. “Uh, yes,” he answers. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Alright,” Sarah replies, giving him a flirty smile. “But only if you’ll give me a dance afterwards.”

The accountant agrees, looking flustered, and Sarah grins into her drink. It’s a simple scam, but sometimes those are the best ones. When the next song comes on, Sarah takes his hand and leads him to the dance floor. The accountant is awkward and off-tempo, but a good time isn’t what Sarah’s looking for. Drawing close to him, she picks his pocket before he even has time to process the nearness of her body. Deftly sliding the wallet into her back pocket, she finishes the dance before kissing him on the cheek and whispering “See you later, hot stuff.” Sarah is laughing by the time she makes it to the car where Vic is waiting.

“Poor sod never saw it coming,” she says, sliding in. “Had $300 in his wallet though. That should be enough, yeah?”

Vic grins. “Good job, Sarah. We’ll get the papers tomorrow; I know a guy in Niagara.” He kisses her, and Sarah feels excitement in her belly. They’re on their way. She doesn’t let herself think of Kira.

 

** May **

Buffalo is a little bigger and nicer than Sarah expected, but there’s still enough dives for she and Vic to stay in, and a sizeable wealthy population means there’s more people to scam. It won’t be long until they’ve worn out their welcome, but it’s nice to have a place to stop and breathe for a bit. Sarah’s sitting on the bed flicking through the grainy channels when Vic stumbles in, red-faced.

“Oi,” she says, getting up. “Have you gone and gotten yourself pissed again? What happened to saving up our money for new car parts, you prat?”

Vic had been drawing closer, and he moves fast, grabbing both of Sarah’s wrists. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that!” he yells, face in hers. “Fucking bitch.”

Vic backhands her, and Sarah rocks back, head snapping around. Vic follows her, shoving her back onto the bead and standing high over her.

“All you’ve got is because of me!” he bellows. “I’ve got the car, I’ve got the papers, you’ve got nothing!”

Vic’s big, and he’s angry, and he’s drunk, so Sarah scootches back on the bed, hands up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, I was out of line, but we’re cool now, yeah? We’re okay. We’re okay.”

Slowly, the anger drains out of Vic’s face, and he sighs, flopping down on the bed. Turning towards her, he cradles her face in his hand, looking at the bruise already forming on her cheek. Sarah tries not to flinch.

“Why you gotta make me be like that, Sarah?” Vic asks. “You know I don’t want to do this.”

“Sorry,” Sarah apologizes. “Let’s just sleep this off, okay? We’ll just go to sleep.”

Vic nods, and he’s snoring within minutes. Sarah lies awake and stares at the ceiling for a long, long time.

 

** June **

Summer brings sunshine, and it seems to lighten up Vic’s mood. Sarah enjoys the relative peace, even as they’re on the road again, making their way to the big city. Currently, they’ve stopped in a quaint little town, and decided to get out to stretch their legs for a bit. Sarah and Vic are too conspicuous to stay overnight, but as Vic had said, there’s nothing wrong with a little walk in the park.

Sarah enjoys the feeling of the breeze blowing through her hair and tilts her face up towards the sun. It’s nice to stop running, even just for a moment. The sound of laughter and shrieking breaks the calm, and Sarah glances over, curious.

A group of children are running around on the playground, breathless and happy. Their mothers watch them from a distance, and Sarah feels a pang in her chest. She’s almost shut it down when one little girl stops and looks at her. Her curly brown hair bounces as she waves, and she looks almost like…

“Kira,” Sarah breathes, swallowing. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she lets out a shaky breath. Vic stops walking and turns back to her.

“What’s going on?” he asks, puzzled.

“It’s nothing,” Sarah says gruffly, walking forward quickly and pulling him along. “It’s nothing at all.”

 

 

**July **

New York City is enormous, so much larger than Toronto, and the movies weren’t lying when they called it ‘the city that never sleeps.’ Sarah thinks there’s never been a place where she fits in more. Here, _everyone_ is hustling.

Sarah smiles ruefully. _Yeah, everyone’s hustling,_ she thinks, _and everyone’s on the lookout for a scam._ Sarah Manning considers herself an excellent con artist, but even she has trouble finding people to sucker in here. Tourists, she’s found, are by far her best bet.

“Hey, mate,” she says, approaching one. He’s a guy who looks to be in his late thirties, wearing one of those ridiculous I Love New York shirts. “You look lost. I’ve got the best tour in the city. Just twenty bucks.”

The man looks doubtful. “I don’t have any cash,” he argues.

“There’s an ATM right over there, “ Sarah says brightly, gesturing. “Come on, I’ll take you to the best restaurant in the city, _and_ the best place to go on Saturday nights to see the SNL cast. That’s tomorrow, yeah? Now you’ll know where to go.”

The man looks surprised, and agrees. He walks over to the ATM and keys in his code. Sarah pretends to fix her eye makeup, but uses her mirror to watch him. _Gotcha._

She takes him to an admittedly pretty good Thai place, and shows him a random spot by Rockefeller. It’s all too easy to pick his pocket while she’s shaking his hand goodbye.

“Thank you!” the man exclaims. “That was wonderful!”

“My pleasure,” Sarah grins. “Really.”

Later, when she’s counting the money she got from a different ATM, hood carefully obscuring her face, Sarah laughs. The Big Apple’s definitely treating her pretty well.

  
 ** August **

August is blazing hot, and Sarah and Vic had managed to pull off a big score, so they had decided to take a weekend and go to the beach. Sarah glances at the fading bruise on her upper arm as she ties her suit’s top. _Don’t think about it Manning,_ she tells herself. _Just have a good time today._

Vic looks ridiculous in his floral swim trunks when he comes to get her, and Sarah can’t help but laugh. “Come on, Vic,” she teases. “Let’s get those awful things covered in sand so I can’t see them.”

“They were on sale!” Vic protests, but follows her towards the water. Sarah gasps a little when she steps her feet in.

“I didn’t expect it to be so bloody cold!”

Cold or not, the pair get all the way into the water, shouting as the waves crash over their heads. After a while, Sarah gets tired, and leaves Vic in the ocean, fingering a dried starfish she had found walking on the beach back to their things. She flops onto her towel and closes her eyes.

“Mommy, look what I found!” Kira runs to her, and shows Sarah the same starfish she’d just picked up. “I love the beach! Can we go more?”

“Monkey, I—” Sarah starts, and then watches as her daughter starts to fade away. “Kira! Kira!”

Sarah jolts awake with a start, and puts her head between her knees. “God,” she moans, “what am I doing?” Looking up, the brunette sees the dried starfish. Before she can even think, Sarah’s thrown it away.

  
 ** September **

A scam had gone south, because one always does, eventually, and Sarah and Vic had hightailed it out of New York, towards Hartford. There’s not much of anything to do in Connecticut, and the pair’s nerves are quickly fraying. Vic’s bad mood is gathering like a storm cloud, and Sarah fidgets a little in the passenger’s seat, waiting for the thunder.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah,” Vic growls. “Would you quit fucking moving? I’m trying to drive.”

“Yeah, well, you need all the help you can get,” Sarah snaps.

Vic grabs her. “You wanna fucking drive, huh, Sarah? You want to take over the wheel?”

“Vic, please, keep your eyes on the road,” Sarah pleads. “We’re bloody swerving!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Vic’s grip tightens on her arm. “I’m sick of your shit, Sarah.”

Desperate, Sarah reaches across with her other hand, grabbing the wheel and yanking it to avoid hitting another car. “Vic!”

Vic grabs her wrist and throws her hand off the wheel, releasing the other arm and shoving her hard against the window. “I’ve got it,” he mutters. “Fucking bitch.”

Sarah leans her head against the glass, breathing quietly until she feels her heart rate slow. Next to her, Vic whistles cheerfully.

  
 ** October **

Fall was always Kira’s favorite season, and now Sarah can’t forget her, because her daughter is everywhere around her as the leaves turn on the trees. It’s absolutely beautiful in New England, and Sarah hates every second of it.

She doesn’t even have to close her eyes to see Kira now. A leaf blows in her face, and she snatches it out of the way irritably. Last autumn, Kira had brought her home an art project, a crudely drawn tree with real fall leaves glued to it.

“Do you like it, Mommy?” she’d asked.

“I love it baby!” Sarah had replied. “Look at all those colors.”

“It’s for you,” Kira had said shyly, offering it up. “Will you keep it?”

“Forever and ever, monkey.” The brunette remembers scooping her daughter up into her arms. The wind blows, and Sarah feels cold, down into her bones.

  
 ** November **

Wooster, Massachusetts is even more boring than Hartford. Sarah hadn’t thought that was possible. She paces the street, restless. She doesn’t want to have to pickpocket some poor asshole in a bar again, but she doesn’t see many other options. The frustrated woman sighs, and enters The Black Bear.

An hour and two drinks later, Sarah disentangles herself from her burly mark, and makes it down three streets before he’s realized that she hadn’t just gone to the bathroom. Ducking into an alley, Sarah riffles through the bills in his wallet.

“One-twenty-three,” she sighs, tossing it away. “Pathetic.”

Still, Sarah thinks it’s all she’ll take in for the night. She’s tired, she’s bored, and she’s sick of strange men pawing at her. _Screw it._

“Sarah!” Vic jumps up when she comes in. His hands are shaking a little. “How much did you get?”

“Enough,” she answers, and moves to put the money in a drawer. Suddenly, Vic is there.

“No, give me that,” he says, hand on her arm. “I need it tonight, Sarah.”

Sarah looks at him, with his bloodshot eyes and white face. His jaw is tight, and he’s still got tremors.

“So you can get more coke?” she spits. “Piss off.”

“Sarah!” Vic’s hand is around her neck. “Give. Me. The money.”

Instinctively, Sarah’s hands scrabble at his, trying to pry it off. “Vic,” she wheezes. “Stop.” His grip tightens.

“Just give me the money. Don’t make this hard.” The bastard sounds genuinely apologetic. Sarah shoves it at his chest, and he lets go. She drops to her knees, gasping. Vic leaves.

 _I can’t keep doing this,_ Sarah thinks. _I’ve got to leave._ But where would she go? Could she go back, back to...

 _Kira._  Sarah was so angry, growing up without a mother. So angry, and she’d fought and she’d run and she’d ended up with a guy like Vic. _I don’t want that for my daughter._ Sarah feels anguished. _What have I done?_

  
 ** December **

 Sarah waits, all the way until they get to Boston. For the last month, she’s been hiding money from Vic, and she’s pretty sure she’s got enough for a train ticket to Toronto. It’s a 22 hour trip, but Sarah thinks she might need the entire time just to think of what to say to Kira. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t feel like enough. She grabs the backpack she’s filled with her scant belongings, and opens the door. Vic is there, smoking on the porch of the motel.

“Shite.”

Vic looks up, hand still dangling over the railing. “Hey. Where are you headed?”

Sarah takes a deep breath and draws herself up. “I’m leaving, Vic. By myself.”

“What?” Vic looks shocked. “Where the hell do you think you’re gonna go?”

“That’s none of your business anymore.” Vic’s starting to come closer, and Sarah reaches out and grabs his ashtray. “Don’t.”

“Sarah…” Vic says, low and dangerous, stepping towards her. Before she can even think, Sarah’s hit Vic with all her strength, splitting open the skin above his left eyebrow. “Arrgh!” Vic yells, stumbling back. “You bitch!”

Sarah sees a large pack of white powder fall out of his jacket pocket, and quickly grabs it. She turns and sprints down the stairs, out the parking lot and down the street. She runs until she can’t anymore. Looking behind her, she sees no one followed her, and ducks behind a building.

She inspects the package. It’s a lot of coke. _Enough,_ Sarah thinks, _to sell and run away with Kira._

 

Sarah’s heart is in her throat as she pays for her ticket, moves through the station, and gets on the train. It only leaves once the train’s started moving. That’s it. She’s gone.

Sarah leans her head against the cool glass and closes her eyes. All she can see is Kira.

“Hold on, monkey,” she whispers. “I’m coming home.”

 


End file.
